


Lunch Break

by dunkelgrau



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Coffee Break, Don't Mess With A Person Who Can Muffin You To Death Even If You're A Trickster God, Gen, Humour, Small Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-07
Updated: 2012-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-30 18:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dunkelgrau/pseuds/dunkelgrau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is neither an adventure, nor a romance story. It is a polite small talk of two genuinely smart creatures. And let the whole world wait for the end of the lunch break...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lunch Break

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to those who asked me to write, and then translate this (the story's originally in Russian), and even moar thanks to those courageous people who helped me to re-check the translation. Madderlly, Bella Squirrell, you were the first - you are my heroes!
> 
> Extra thanks go to Marvel, who gave us such brilliant Universe to play with - and Clark Gregg, who has just posted "Lady Gaga works for SHIELD" message at his facebook page. I mean, seriously: WHERE IS THE LIMIT OF AWESOMENESS OF THIS GUY?! xD

“Phil, we lost the object, over”, the radio mumbled to Coulson’s ear at the very moment he was about to report that he noted the object in question.

The voice droning from the transmitter was the voice of Maria Hill — in that particular commanding tone of hers, clearly hinting that the lady would not tolerate the initiative. As far as Coulson recalled, agent Hill always became aggressively miserable, if someone was trying to act contrary to her directives; the only person who could be generally worse in such stubbornness was Nick Fury himself.

“Accepted; permission to return to base, over”, Coulson responded calmly, turning to the bar. “Two gingerbread lattes and a chocolate muffin with cherries, please”.

“For—?” the waitress murmured cheerfully, taking a paper cup and a marker.

“What?!” agent Hill’s voice gasped in the earpiece.

“For Loki, please”, Coulson smiled politely. “Agent, excuse me, I’m not talking to you at the moment”.

Thanks to the waitress’ professionally loud enthusiasm, agent Hill’s expressive speech on ‘not talking to you’ matters went completely unnoticed. Coulson allowed himself to smile a little wider. Positively, the fact of existence of a brand new, freshly opened "Starbucks" café near one of the buildings which housed the S.H.I.E.L.D. bases delighted him more and more. Yes, coffee there (with a very few exceptions) was outrageously overcooked. Yes, the prices there were higher than in most coffee shops, which were favored by agent Coulson. But the "Starbucks" was situated conveniently; most windows and glass walls gave the full view of the whole street; so it was fair to say that it wasn’t the first time when Phil chose the place as a point of observation. He was not alone in his approach: his colleagues popped in so often that local staff ceased to be surprised by the fact that people in business suits or camouflage were occasionally talking to themselves, while making the order, and constantly named themselves differently.

“…taking the lead of the operation!” Hill’s voice, a bit distorted by the radio, was obviously finishing another one of her professional gospels.

“Roger that,” Coulson agreed mechanically. No man alive could guess the cruel truth: he wasn’t giving a slightest damn about what had just been told to him. He was an ultimate master of sounding confident under any circumstances. “In any case, I would prefer a personal debriefing on the subject to a talk on a common frequency. And may I just remind you, that the absence of the object on the territory doesn’t influence the fact I’m still having a lunch break”.

“Coulson, what are you…”

“I still have eighteen minutes, according to the current schedule”, Phil finished relentlessly. “We’ll discuss the reports later, agent. Over and out”.

“Two gingerbread lattes and a chocolate muffin for Loki!”

Coulson was pleased to notice that a perfect replica of Maria Hill, who was sitting on the couch by one of the windows, turned her head to the waitress’ yell reflexively. The trickster absolutely deserved few prize points for his self-control: he didn’t even flinch or change facial expression when Coulson sat down beside him and handed him the cup with a bold "Loki" inscribed at the side in greasy blue.

“Forgive my indelicacy, but I'm not completely aware of your gastronomic preferences, so I took a muffin only for myself”, Coulson stated peacefully. “Sugar?..”

“How did you know?” said Hill’s duplicate gravely, removing the lid from the coffee cup.

“It was Maria who coordinated the operation today”, agent smiled politely. “She couldn’t possibly be outside the perimeter after the alarm went off”.

“How did you know which of us was fake?” the trickster demanded with genuine curiosity, stirring the sugar.

 _The dress fits you better_ , Coulson thought. Loki choked at this, confirming the theory that he was fully capable of reading minds.

“L-lovely coffee, thank you”, Loki admitted, blinking at the agent.

“Glad you like it”.

“Let me wonder if you have got any specific reasons for not mentioning my presence to your… colleagues. Please?..”

Coulson had just bit his muffin, so he had every right not to answer out loud. _Specific reasons,_ Coulson thought sarcastically, _but of course. As if pathetic mortals were forbidden to commit spontaneous actions…_

“Agent Coulson”, Loki said in that busy tone, which was totally the prerogative of the real Maria Hill, “I do not mean to sound prejudiced, but the ‘spontaneous action’ does not fit well when the situation involves you”.

 _Which means that ‘pathetic mortal’ fits, thank you_ , Coulson chuckled to himself.

Loki gritted his teeth. “I didn’t mean _that_ ”.

“Really?” Coulson sounded genuinely surprised.

“Stop avoiding the question, would you?!”

“Let’s face the facts, Mr. Loki. You sit in a café, opposite the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, disguised as one of our best agents”, Phil said in a low, calm voice. “You do not try to get inside the buildings, you do not blow up vehicles, you do not try to call some monstrous creatures, you do not attempt to put spells on passers-by… In summary: you behave. You’re just… teasing, so far — which involves acting on the nerves of our agents, of course. And, as far as I can see, you’re obviously testing our security service, which doesn’t count as terrorism yet”.

Loki was sipping his coffee in silence. There was a slight shifting in the illusive form of agent Hill’s face: there was a tiny change in the angle of the cheekbones, and the eyes were slowly turning bright green.

“I concluded that you might just be bored”, Coulson summed up, brushing muffin crumbs off his sleeve. “I can afford such boredom for — yes, for twelve more minutes. Think of it as of a short truce. Naturally, I will include the fact of our meeting in my report, yet I wholeheartedly hope you are not going to provoke a conflict during my lunch break”.

“Blueberry”, after a pause, said the green-eyed version of agent Hill in a blank tone.

“Pardon?..”

“You’ve mentioned that you do not know my… gastronomic preferences. I tend to prefer blueberry muffins”.

 _That mortal gets the idea when he sees one,_ Loki admitted, as Coulson was giving an order to the waitress. _And accepts the rules of the game — as if feeling intuitively that the game in question is on…_ That really counted as a reason against provoking conflicts. At least for the following twelve minutes.

“Would you be so kind as to think of something pleasant?” the trickster asked politely, when Coulson returned with his order.

The agent blinked.

“To maintain a conversation”. Loki shrugged. “Look, I like neither speaking with my mouth full, nor listening to the long monologues, so… Will you think about something pleasant, or what? Show the lady some courtesy… aside from the muffins”.

It took Coulson a mighty effort of will to drive away an inappropriately picturesque thought that the best courtesy he could give agent Hill was — well, pushing her from a skyscraper, for starters. Not that he disliked the colleague that much, but still — their relationship suffered from an excess of the joint work.

Coulson sipped his cooling coffee.  
Gave a pensive long gaze to the trickster, who was busy with absorbing the muffin.  
And thought.

Of _something pleasant._

Loki’s coffee went through his nose. Coughing Asgardian gave the agent the stare full of such vivid expression, that Coulson could not help but snorting. Naturally, Loki was unable to speak before swallowing the rest of his dessert, but his bloodshot stare spoke louder than words.

“You asked me to think about something pleasant”, Coulson responded in perfectly polite tone.

“You have rather… vivid imagination”, Loki managed, still coughing.

“Basically, if that doesn’t spoil your appetite, I can still imagine something else”, the agent offered gallantly. “Say, Mr. Stark… washing a military tank… with strawberry foam… in a bathing suit with a portrait of Captain America…”

“Are you mocking me, mortal?!”

“ _You_ asked me to think about something pleasant. You didn’t specify the ‘pleasant’. So — showing courtesy to the lady, I am”.

Loki, giving the agent a cautious look, quickly finished his muffin. It seemed that the speed of food absorption depended directly on Coulson — or, to be completely correct, on the probability of the situation in which the agent might think of something even more colourful. That was somehow pleasing.

“I am positively certain that I need to meet you more often, agent”, Loki concluded, licking the jam from his illusively manicured finger. The gesture didn’t fit Maria Hill, but it did work for the trickster. The fact that Loki spoke in his original male voice, didn’t spoil the view.

Coulson allowed himself to furrow his eyebrow. “Correct me if I am wrong: are you implying that I have a positive effect on you?” 

“Not really; yet you make me wish to develop immunity to your way of thinking”.

“Ah. Thank you”.

“And you do not provoke the unbearable desire to blow something up”.

“Now I'm flattered”.

“Not that it works permanently, do understand. Humans in general just… beg… yes, _beg_ to get them enslaved — this cannot be fixed”.

 _But not during my lunch break_ , Coulson though. _How… alarmingly cute._

“Something like that, thank you for your understanding”. Loki put his cup down. “Anyway, I will eventually sneak into your headquarters. Just saying”.

“I am including this statement in my report. Just reminding”.

“Oh, make a copy for me, will you?” Loki grinned. The demonstration of such number of teeth looked pretty impressive with the anatomy of the face of agent Hill. “I do value funny texts, like that Poetic Edda of yours, you know”.

“This is an official document, which has the relevant level of security and limited access”, Coulson stated matter-of-factly.

 _Not to mention that you already know what I’m going to write there_ , the agent mused to himself, watching as smile was slowly creeping on the trickster’s face. _Moreover, you can easily guess what I’m NOT going to write there… And I even might actually thank you for giving me an extra association with the face of agent Hill — by the way, these green eyes really suit her. And —_

Loki moved with speed and grace of a snake in any of his incarnations. Coulson’s mind went wondrously blank, as the trickster leaned in and quickly kissed the agent on the cheek. The god of mischief wasn’t behaving, in fact, _mischievously_. He wasn’t even trying to hug the man: it was merely a fraction of second, the lightest touch. But what made Coulson’s thoughts stop for a moment as if a sort of inner alarm went off was not the touch itself. It was the fact that the touch felt… natural.

Habitual, even.  
As if things were _normally_ supposed to be like that.

“Explain”, Coulson managed.

His mind was back to normal and busy calculating both the probability of being captured by some street surveillance camera and the possible reaction of agent Hill in case she got that captures. The latter also included a side task of making a list of utterly explicit words that could describe the situation in general.

“Adding some intrigue to the plot of your report”, Loki chuckled. “Thanks for the coffee”.

“You’re welcome”, the agent replied automatically, watching the trickster rise from his seat and leave the cafe — as far as Phil could discern, no longer in the body of Hill, but disguised as Coulson himself.

In the remaining few minutes of lunch break, Coulson had to:  
a. think over (or, to put it simply: invent) his report, which had to look convincing and not completely made up;  
b. decide whether it is okay to approve/reprove the perversion of being quite fond of Loki in a body of a respected co-worker;  
c. drive away the pile of unwanted associations on the topic above;  
d. decide, if (b) is actually a perversion or a symptom of Stockholm syndrome;  
e. understand what by all gods (including the most improbable and alien ones) is wrong with his life, if all this crap makes him more amused than alarmed.  
And to drink up his coffee, of course, thank you very much.

It was terrible fun to imagine the possible trickstery which Loki might prepare for Coulson’s next lunch break. Specifically, it made sense to come up with some plausible stories for further reports. Just in case.


End file.
